Marooned on Eden

by Robert L. Forward; Martha Dodson Forward

  Which seemed to be over. It was late in the afternoon and it was getting dark. The small animal disappeared inside the trunk, and the enormous legs began their strange shuffle toward a nearby thorn thicket. One of the small creatures in the mouth of the alien gave a whistle and the thorn bush opened to allow the alien in. I turned and sprinted off down the trail toward our camp, as the owls returned to their nests.

  It is now the next morning, and I have narrated as clearly as I can all that happened yesterday. I have gone back up the trail and checked, and the creature is back out of its thorn thicket and is obviously on its way here. My recorder is on now so that I won't have to repeat our plans, and so that the upcoming encounter can be entered as it occurs. I'll try to keep our comments identified, so that when we can get this account to James it will be clear. (Fortunately, I can enter my own comments with my fingertips, unheard.)

  "How far away is the creature by now, Reiki?" (This was Jinjur.)

  "As near as I can judge, about half a kilometer. That'll take it a couple of hours, but we'll see it well before that."

  "We've got to be ready for an attack. There's absolutely no reason to count on this being a friendly visit." (John, ever wary!)

  "On the contrary—I think we ought to assume it is friendly until we have good cause to think otherwise. For it to have met Reiki in such neutral circumstances, and stayed benign, is a pretty good sign." (Nels, with quiet firmness.)

  "For Reiki to have deliberately confronted the thing was stupid!" (Richard, growling.)

  "And dangerous. I'm furious about that, Reiki!" (Jinjur is angrier with me than I have ever seen her. I shall speak in my own defense, and in that of the giant—I must succeed in this!)

  "I know it was not only not stupid, it was not dangerous. You will see, and feel, as I did, the lack of hostility in this . . .this giant, when you meet it, if you are willing to wait, and remain calm. That's why I wanted to prepare both you and it. And why I ask you, please, to be ready to greet it peacefully, and move slowly and tranquilly. It has come a long way with great patience, to seek us out; I suspect that through its seeing eye owls, it already knows a great deal more about us than we do about it. And the fastest way we can establish a bond we can grow with, is to slow down to its speed, paradoxical though that sounds! We must demonstrate that we are civilized aliens, so we can learn if it too is civilized—for it certainly is alien!"

  "Can you repeat that first tune you mentioned, Reiki?" (David's question, as he brought up his whistle.)

  "I'll try." (I did, and David quickly copied it, although I'm afraid I got a couple of the notes wrong.)

  "Shall we all stay, or some hide?" (Arielle, looking speculatively at the tall tree trunks around us.)

  "I'm pretty sure it knows exactly how many we are. Those little "owls" have been about us all along, and I think they have a symbiotic relationship with the tree—or a relationship of some sort."

  "Which is it, Reiki, plant or animal?" (Carmen's question.)

  "I don't know. You'll see it, you decide which it is!"

  (And here it comes in sight! We are lined up, two formal rows at attention, with Jinjur at our head, and all as still as possible, while the creature slowly advances. I hear gasps of amazement, and even I am newly amazed at this unbelievable sight. The blue-green fronds atop the tall creature move in the wind, and the empty "nests" swing freely. All the little "owls" but one are busy in flight, keeping us all under surveillance. The amazing roots move slowly but efficiently, and one of the small animals suddenly appears in the opening. It's the greeting-song again! David gives me a reproachful look—I had indeed got the tune wrong! But he slowly lifts the flute to his mouth, and responds with a very accurate imitation of the melody. The huge being almost ripples! As we agreed, I step forward, slowly, with Jinjur, until she is within reach of the long legs.)

  Speaking slowly, I extend her hand: "May I present our commander, Jinjur."

  (The small animal vanishes, is replaced instantly, and a new sound comes forth! Sounding amazingly similar to my tones, the speech is:)

  "Maaee preeseent oor coommaandeer jeenjuur."

  (Wherever this being maintains its intelligence is a mystery, but its existence is very obvious! With more self-confidence now, Jinjur takes another step, slowly indicates herself with both hands, and states:)

  "Jinjur."

  (The massive "foot" begins to rise. Jinjur, without flinching, extends her hand, and touches the strong extending "root." From yet another little "mole" comes a new sound—a soft, whistling.)

  "Jeenjuur!"

  It's once again late, and my watch. We continue to maintain one, although we've seen nothing to cause us alarm; Jinjur's military training goes too deep to allow her to relax her vigilance on our behalf, and in addition, we are still anxiously awaiting a break in the weather which might bring us a return signal from Prometheus.

  I have much to think about, as I gaze at the scudding clouds. Our meeting with the giant plant lasted for hours. At some point early on, the creature (which makes most of its sounds through the little animals we have seen gathering food!) emitted a deep noise which sounded startlingly like a chuckle. I very much doubt that it was anything of the sort, but it sounded so like a deep, human laugh that Richard exclaimed, involuntarily,

  "Ho, Ho, Ho? Is it a Jolly Blue-Green Giant?"

  The name stuck, I'm afraid. To me it sounds both inaccurate and condescending, but the others now refer to the immense creature as a Jolly, so I shall go along with it until we learn more.

  And there is vastly more to learn! It proved surprisingly quick to copy our sounds of speech, and to learn the meanings of words. It is apparently eager to learn, and the first symbol it desired to share was the idea of "fire." We must acquire a large vocabulary to communicate more, but the few facts we have gained, with tantalizing slowness, about the way in which the Jolly exists, have been stunning in their complexity and in their total difference from anything we have ever encountered.

  "Eyes," indicated the Jolly, with the smoothly moving tip of one limb gliding up nearly to touch my own, then off to touch, equally lightly, one of the little owls!

  Cinnamon, moving with extreme slowness, stood on a nearby rock to peer deeply into one swinging nest without presuming to touch it. Her ready empathy with all living things stood her in good stead, and the Jolly never moved as she stepped down.

  "There's nothing in there but a single protruding thing, like a teat. It would just fit that opening on the back of the owl, but I don't know . . ." Here, one of the owls returned to that nest, and Cinnamon said, judging from its position, it was indeed on the teat, with its large eye regarding us from the nest opening.

  "This is much more than symbiosis!" exclaimed Nels. "That tiny thing is more like a free-flying extension of the Jolly!"

  Similarly, the long slow exploring limb, which behaves somewhat like the trunk of an elephant in its massive yet precise movement, touched my mouth, and then the opening in its body. We were unable to see within, partly because the little animals we have seen were inside, and partly because the opening itself was occupied by one of the same animals, emitting sounds more and more like our words. Curiously, there is a covering for that hole which is obviously made of some other material. It appears soft and fine, and elaborately decorated with colored threads. It hangs above the mouth most of the time, and we have no idea what its purpose is.

  From the manner in which the small animal-like creatures darted away from, and quickly back to the opening, it appeared they are not the guiding intelligence of the creature; their activities have the appearance of messengers receiving instructions, and communicating with outsiders. Their alacrity and single-mindedness indicate a great dependence on, and trust of, that central intelligence; indeed, that seems true of the owl-like creatures also. Nels especially strove to maintain a scientific position of detached observation; this was wise, as some of the rest of us tend to leap to anthropomorphic conclusions which frequently are erroneous! Ou
r original assumption, that the owls and animals were individuals in their own right, became drastically altered, as we realized they are actually no more independent than our own eyes and hands. We struggled to understand how a structure that is so like a plant, even to the extent of using photosynthesis to some extent, can have evolved into a tool-making animal!

  The Jolly's incredible speed at assimilating and using our own speech patterns was in vivid contrast to its slowness of movement. Indeed, as the urgent questions began to fly from Jinjur and John I felt compelled to intervene.

  "Excuse me!" I said rather loudly. "We've begun in well-meaning fashion, and it's obvious there's more for us to learn here than we can possibly do in one meeting. This noble creature may be the key to the entire ecology of this world! But I am sure you see that while the intelligence is even quicker than our own, the motions are necessarily very slow, and it is the essence of diplomacy, more than etiquette, to respect that pace, particularly as we are the unwilling intruders in this country!"

  Jinjur looked thoughtfully at me, and to my relief, nodded curtly and sat down quietly; the little "eye" which had been fluttering to keep her in sight returned to its nest.

  For the next several hours we worked very hard; studying the Jolly's appearance, formulating hypotheses, framing questions, struggling to simplify the questions enough to be understood, listening to the brief answers and then discussing them quietly.

  Finally, we humans became tired and hungry. David, in particular, had been sitting crosslegged in front of the Jolly, listening intently to the whistled phrases passing between "eyes" and "hands"; he copied them, constantly correcting himself, on the little flute, and had interpreted meanings for many of the sounds. When he finally stood, it was slowly and painfully.

  "I'm not being mannerly, I'm stiff!" he grimaced.

  "And I'm hoarse," croaked Cinnamon, who had been doing most of the questioning—her level tones seem to be the most easily understood by the Jolly, and we had been passing our queries through her.

  "How shall we end the conference? Ring a bell or something?" asked John.

  "David can!" suggested Arielle. "Try first song!"

  That was a good idea—since it was undoubtedly ceremonial in nature, perhaps it would serve as temporary farewell also. Jinjur and Nels seemed about to protest at this termination of our interview; however, as they got to their feet also their expressions revealed surprise and discomfort. We have not remained immobile for so long since our arrival! While the rest of us gathered ostentatiously in a neat row, David repeated the first song we had heard from the Jolly. With some relief we heard the answering repetition, and then we all moved off at our own speed. Once again, the huge roots began their curious plodding pace, and the alien creature moved majestically into the welcoming shelter of a nearby thicket.

  Jinjur put Shirley to keep first watch, and the rest of us turned to the routine of preparing a meal.

  My own part of the job, to which I am philosophically resigned, is the ongoing collection of fuel; I have become skillful enough to have an effective routine, and one which leaves my mind free to reflect. All the new information was seething so busily in my head I paid little attention to my customary path beside the bustling stream which fell from the hills. I climbed steadily, stopping occasionally to stack pieces for my return trip downhill, or to toss large bits to float downstream for most of the distance. I was thinking so intently of the strange lifeform we were studying, that the sight in the soft earth of the brookside gave me a physical jolt. It was only my own earlier foot-print, but now I realized how "alien" it was.

  How recently I had been fully engaged in a highly technological mission, remote and detached, in sophisticated surroundings, maintained in every respect by intelligences only slightly more artificial than my own! Could there be anything more complete than this present reversal? As the days have gone by, there has been less and less hopeful talk about the possibility of our ever returning to Prometheus. I think each of us has gone round and round in our own minds, searching for a way in which that might be done, and have come up with only pessimistic conclusions. The lander under the water may still provide us with tools, possibly even some means of communicating with the ship, but the difficulties inherent in physical transportation are immense and we know them all.

  Are we prepared, or even willing, to consider living out the remainder of our lives in these primitive circumstances with only each other for company? No wonder we are so avid to explore all the intricacies of the creature we met today! How interested Katrina and George would—at this point I missed that former life with a very real pang. But each day, I realized, as I continued to muse, the faces here become more real and precious to me. I think the Christmas Bush and its imps did as much to keep us isolated from one another as they did to keep us carefree and comfortable. Since we had no need for the companionship of others, we had gradually become unmindful, even intolerant of closeness. Certainly I had!

  Now, it is becoming easy and pleasurable to talk with each other; and I have heard stories of the backgrounds of my friends I never would have imagined! How Shirley had discovered her passion for drums in early adolescence and joined an amateur band, and, with typical enthusiasm, practiced so assiduously her fingers bled daily! How Nels' meticulous laboratory drawings had led to idle sketches of fantastic creatures, and fired his imagination of other worlds. Carmen's sorrow for her mother's sorrow, when Carmen left her knowing she would never return—there were tears when she told us that, but our quiet listening soothed her, and there was new calm in her face as she sighed, still. And what a joy it is to hear a human laugh—it doesn't happen often, but when it does I hear it with such a lift of the heart! I should, I think, regret losing that, if somehow we could return to the world of James. There always seems to be much to say among us, and we are now sharing our thoughts like our labors.

  "It's funny," mused Joh, one evening. "I never bothered to really listen to Jinjur, I just obeyed orders, and did my work, and let my imp do all the communicating. Now I find, when she hollers or whatever, both the words and the holler have meaning, sometimes contradictory." Interesting, if John really has begun to listen! "And what the odd part is, is that I get the message quicker than I did through the imp!"

  That was a real delight to hear. The easy intimacy of our communal life is becoming a bond, and our interdependence rests lightly on us all.

  I was more than ready for the meal ahead. We have been widening our exploration among possible foodstuffs, and when Arielle and Shirley take their turn as cooks the results can be delectable. Indeed, there are several culinary specialists among us. Cinnamon's way of skewering alternate chunks of fish, clam-meat, and a flavorsome small vegetable on well-soaked slivers of wood, to be grilled slowly, basted frequently with the juice freshly squeezed from the fruit we call a mango, results in a brown, crisply glazed portion, tender and succulent. With rapid and vigorous chopping, John transforms the primrose-colored flesh of the large roots we've dubbed yams into a creamy mass, smooth and mellow, which slides effortlessly down the throat, tasting faintly of sweetness. And David collects, high among the canopy, a tiny, fiery berry whose spicy heat adds welcome flavor to some of the safe but stodgy tubers we find most plentiful.

  Two of the new items today had been collected by John, who hovered over them with some concern. One of these is a dark-leafed plant which grows in profusion along the many little streambanks; the other is a thick-skinned small fruit, and he had asked both peel and flesh be cooked. He seemed to have some very definite object in mind, but was reluctant to explain, possibly for fear of influencing the tasters. I think that concern is now unnecessary; as we accumulate a wide variety of edible choices, our comments on new tastes have become remarkably candid—Richard's description of the flavor of David's little "pepper" being noteworthy.

  Accordingly, I watched curiously as the small dark leaves were gently steamed—they almost instantly darkened in color, and John looked hopeful. Arielle took a
tiny taste of the stuff and looked thoughtful.

  "Strong! But not bad." She tasted again, more generously, and chewed slowly. "Tough, too," she commented. "Tastes like . . .like . . .greens."

  John was obviously delighted, to my puzzlement. "Great! Give me the rest, Arielle, and I'll run some tests. It's vitamin C I'm after," he explained then. "Good old ascorbic acid—our bodies can't make it, we didn't bring any, and without it we're in for real problems, but that leafy stuff may be an answer!"

  As he spoke I turned to watch Shirley approach the steaming fruit which was to be her portion. It smelled rather pleasant, and responded to her knife tip. She took a spoonful; instantly her expression twisted into one I would not have thought humanly possible! Without ceremony she spat the offending morsel straight into the fire and reached for the water bucket, dousing her entire face and gulping frantically.

  "No good?" asked Arielle, rather unnecessarily.

  "Sour!" gasped Shirley. "I never tasted anything so sour!" John responded with a whoop of glee.

  "Terrific! Sounds great! Here, try again!" Quickly he spooned up a tiny portion of the fruit juice, which had turned pink in the cooking, and sprinkled it with a small bit of white powder.

  "Try this!" he urged, holding it out to Shirley. She hesitated, but then complied, gingerly. Her apprehension changed to interest then, and she was quick to say, "That's much better!"

  John was still excited, but explained "Sour may mean vitamin C too, and I'll test it. It may be as close as we can come to citrus here; all I put on was sugar, but you know how little we have of that, and no way to get more. Unless we can find some of that, too."